


The Ridge

by AbbyDebeaupre, WhiskyNotTea



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Batman AU, Claire's Got a Thing for A Man In a Cape, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Group Therapy Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 15:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17645276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyDebeaupre/pseuds/AbbyDebeaupre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskyNotTea/pseuds/WhiskyNotTea
Summary: Claire wasn’t looking for a hero but there he stood, resplendent in his cape and mask. “I’m Batman,” he said in a soft Scottish burr. “I’m Dr. Beauchamp,” she told him, “I’d like to help you for a change.”





	The Ridge

**Author's Note:**

> This lovely story was born, as such things often are, one snowy night in the dead of winter. It is crack with a heart of gold and Whisky and I want to thank our friends and partners in crime @futurelounging for her amazing graphics, and @theministerskat, @ianmuyrray, @wunderlichkind for their support!

 

 

Jamie rounded the corner but stayed in the shadows, as he always did. Things had been heating up lately and he had to stay vigilant. The street fair was a Metropolis tradition. These days it was sponsored by Tryon Industries, of course. The so-called Governor had his hands in every pie there was. He and his cronies had everyone -- from the politicians to the police -- in their back pockets. Crime had soared and greed had rooted in people’s hearts. The desperation in the eyes of women and children increased, and it gnawed at him. Slowly, he was making a difference. He grinned, remembering last night’s news coverage of him saving old Mr. Weatherby from being mugged, almost getting stabbed in the process. Getting all the animals out of the pet store when the fire broke out was another highlight of the week, but no one had connected that to him yet, which was how he preferred it.

 

A small sound of shuffling came from behind. He looked over his shoulder, bit down a curse at what he knew he would find. The lad was good, pressing himself flat into the doorway but Jamie sensed his presence. Just across the square, something moved in the shadows. Over the sound of the music, he heard the scream. There! Those men were shoving the ladies standing close to them. The crowd surged, and he could see no one had noticed anything amiss. Another sharp scream and one of the women was falling over. The man’s hand was rising above his head and flinging downwards.

 

“Call 911!” he told the lad and he was at a run in an instant.  

 

________________________________________

 

“Let me through!” Jamie was using his height and momentum push against the crowd. “Stand aside!” He could see one of the women being thrown over a man’s shoulder. He was going to be too late, damn it! He lost sight of the woman’s blonde hair as she was lowered to the ground. She must be fighting him off, he could make out elbows and heads snapping to and fro. Then the men were facing each other, squaring off. Without a second’s thought to his own safety, he rush in between the two ruffians in front of him.

 

Jamie’s head was pounding, his chest ached when he tried to breathe deeply.  He managed to roll on his hands and knees, willing himself not to throw up. He’d been kicked in the ribs and stomach and felled by a roundhouse punch to the side of his head with something that felt like the broadside of an ax. He looked up and was met with a sea of angry, spitting faces bathed in flickering red and blue lights.  

 

He was hoisted to his feet by rough hands, and nearly collapsed again.

 

“Hands on top of your head!” A navy clad arm gestured. Jamie saw the badge and hat.

 

“What? I’m the one that called you, officer! Did you get them? Are the women ok?” Jamie shook his head trying to get the ringing in his ears to stop. He saw one of the men sitting on the ground with a cop looming over him. Good. They got the bastards.

 

“I will not tell you again, sir. Both hands behind your head.” Jamie did as he was told, confident that as soon as he explained things would right themselves. The man on the ground was being helped to his feet by the cop, who gave him some water and a towel. An oddly polite way to treat a thug, he thought. The officer pulled his hands down and snapped the cuffs on his wrists, none too gently, either.  “I am going to reach into your pocket and pull out your ID. No funny moves, okay?”

 

“No...officer, you got it all wrong, I’m not the criminal, those men were hurting the---” Jamie could feel his temper rising. How incompetent were these keystone cops?

 

“Look, bud you got any hidden pockets in that suit of yours with a license or other ID?” Jamie watched the man take in his appearance, saw his eyes sweep from boots to skin tight aerodynamic tactical pants -- the codpiece was a bit much, but it was the only thing that the utility belt would fit comfortably on. His eyes travelled up Jamie’s broad chest to the mask covering his face. “Or can I take a guess.” The man smirked. Jamie’s heart sank, but his voice was clear and he didn’t hesitate.

 

“Aye, officer, as ye have guessed, I’m Batman.” Jamie confirmed as he was dragged over to the police car.

 

“Well, Batman, you are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you, watch your cape.” The officer shoved Jamie into the backseat and slammed the door.  

______________________________________________

 

Ned Gowan was peering at him over the tops of his half-round glasses, and Jamie shifted uncomfortably in the hard seat, leaning in to listen to something Mr. Grey was saying. Whatever it was, it was lost in the shuffling of the bailiff.

 

“Next matter! State v. Fraser case MCP-19-131!” Jamie rolled his shoulders as he rose, trying to get relief from the handcuffs chafing his wrists. He hated lock-up with every fiber of his being. Hated the steel bars, the noise, the smell, the press of bodies. No blue sky, no fresh air. Thank god he was being arraigned this morning -- he didn’t think he could take another 8 hours in lock up.

 

“Mr. Campbell, read the charges, if you please.”

 

“Public endangerment and assault in the second degree. However, as this is Defendant’s third arrest in four months, we have added the repeat offender surcharge.”

 

“Mr. Fraser, I thought I told you last month I better not see you back here again.” Judge Gowan pointed his gavel at Jamie as he fumed.

 

Jamie stared down at his boots. They’d taken his body armor and cape, mask, holster and utility belt. They had even taken his gloves, the special order ones with the trim like shark fins. He felt naked, standing there in just his black leggings and a tee shirt. He tried to twist his arms to take the pressure off.

 

“A….a...a...” Jamie stuttered. His heart raced and his tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He willed himself to relax and try again. If only he had his cape. “Y--yes, your honor,” he managed to get out.

 

Judge Gowan sighed, exasperated. What was he going to do about James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser? The lad meant well, but one of these days someone was going to get seriously injured and he’d find himself in a world of trouble.

 

“Mr. Grey, how does your client plead?”

 

“Not guilty,” Hal said, watching Jamie hunch his shoulders once more. “Look, Farquard, can we take his cuffs off? Your thugs roughed him up and didn’t bother to get him the first aid he needed. His wrists are bleeding.”

 

“Thugs! You had better have evidence for such a scurrilous claim, Grey. Our boys in blue protect us every day from vigilantes and riff-raff such as your client!” Old Campbell was turning red in the face, Jamie noticed. He vaguely reminded him the masterminds behind the crimes he fought, when he thwarted their plans.

 

“Jamie has an exceptional track record of public service!” Hal objected. “He prevented Mary Hawkins from being raped. He found that six-year-old who’d been scared of the fireworks and gotten lost. No one else bothered looking in that culvert and even if they had, the kid only came out when he saw Batman there to rescue him. What about when he stopped the bus from being stolen? Or took on that gang of shoplifters?”

 

“Fraser also accidentally threw a chair into a plate glass window causing $10,000 of damages, handcuffed a thief to a bike rack which amounts to false imprisonment and stole a car to go joyriding.”

 

“He didn’t steal the car, and you know it! That guy was drunk and Jamie tried to find the remote starter he’d dropped under the seat. When he didn’t, he realized the only way to stop him from getting behind the wheel was to take the car a couple miles into town and park it where he wouldn’t find it until he sobered up.”

 

“Gentlemen, save the dramatics for when we have a jury present.  What exactly did Mr. Fraser do this time?”

 

“He assaulted two couples for no reason!”

 

“The men were fighting, he broke it up. And he was the one who called 911 for backup, but when the cops got there they didn’t bother asking any questions, just threw him to the ground, roughed him up and put his cuffs on so tight he’s now bleeding.”

 

“The men weren’t fighting for god’s sake, they were dancing with their wives! This nut job in a Batman costume came at them out of nowhere and started squirting pepper spray!”

 

“A-a..” Jamie sighed. He shouldn’t have tried to speak up in his own defence, but Campbell was twisting everything around and he couldn’t help it. If only they’d let him keep his costume. Batman’s words never faltered. He was clever, and strong. Jamie pursed his lips and willed himself to imagine he was still in his suit. “Honest mistake!” His brow quirked up and he gave the judge a jaunty salute with his cuffed hands, then winced when he accidentally pulled too hard.

 

“Bailiff, give the key to Mr. Grey. Bring the first aid kit, too,” Ned ordered.

 

From the corner of his eye, Jamie caught the slight movement of brown curls and a crisp English accent saying, “I have medical training, hand me that.”

 

Butterflies started fluttering inside his wame the closer she got. She was fairly tall, reaching just under his chin. Jamie forced himself to stand still when she touched him. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure she could hear it, too. Then she looked up at him and gasped. Jamie’s heart sank, and he swallowed his disappointment. He looked away from her, pretending something off to his right was catching his attention.

 

When he was little, he’d overheard his aunt telling his uncle how relieved she was that their daughters had all taken after her, for she wouldn’t wish on anyone those piercing MacKenzie eyes. “Unnerving it is, Dougal! I have never seen such a deep blue-- like the bottom of the ocean they are, all cold and dark. It doesn’t help that he has hair the devil would envy and with his tangle-tongue he can hardly get a word out, now can he? So he just sits there and stares with those cat eyes of his, I wish you would just tell him to stop. It gives everyone the heebie-jeebies, it does!”

 

From then on, Jamie was careful to avoid looking anyone in the eyes.  Batman, fortunately, didn’t share this same problem. There was something about the black mask-- perhaps only that it hid his red hair.  He was surprised when she spoke directly to him.

 

“Steady on, soldier,” she encouraged as she ran antiseptic wipes over his torn skin and he tried not to flinch at the sting.

 

Her head was bent in concentration and he found himself drawn back to her once more. That glorious mane of hers contained the most amazing colors of brown and gold and red. As if she sensed him staring, her head rose and her gaze boldly met his. On purpose. Neither of them looked away this time. Jamie was no longer standing in a shabby county courthouse, no longer the displaced highland Scot from a town so small its population of sheep outnumbered people, trying to make a home in this huge impersonal city that he’d hated since the day he’d arrived. He wasn’t living in a place beset by evil forces, full of corruption, where everyday folk like him stood no chance unless willing to work outside official channels to ensure justice was done. When he looked at her, he needed no suit of armor. Everything fell away and it was just him and this beautiful Sassenach tending to his wounds. It was as if she could see him, the him he wanted to be deep down inside, the him he never seemed able to find out in the real world.

 

She smiled, a tentative curve full of good humor which he answered with a shy quirk of his own.

 

Jamie surprised himself by saying, with ease, “I’m no soldier.”

 

“No, you’re a bloody superhero, aren’t you?”

 

“Batman,” he told her. She didn’t laugh at him, just nodded and started to wrap his wrists in gauze.

 

“Well my capeless crusader, you are all set. Keep the cuts dry for a day or so, apply antibiotic and in a couple of days you’ll be just fine.”

 

“A...a…” Jamie could only manage a frustrated noise from the back of his throat that made him sound like his father.

 

“You’re welcome.” She squeezed his hand and melted back into the audience behind the counsel tables. The judge was speaking and Jamie reluctantly lost sight of her as he turned back to the bench.

 

“Mr. Fraser, I have tried everything I could think of short of jail time to get you to stop patrolling this city as a citizen crime fighter.” Jamie’s head snapped up in panic. Prison? Being locked inside some crowded cell, denied the freedom to walk out his door? Living in concrete and steel instead of rolling glens and mountains was bad enough, but if he were caged like an animal for any length of time, he was sure he wouldn’t survive. “I am hearing you had an accomplice. Rumor is he’s young. What you are doing is bad enough, but you are an adult. I had better not hear that you’ve corrupted a minor by filling his head with your nonsense. If I catch the two of you together I will lock you both up, am I being clear?”

 

Jamie’s forehead broke out in sweat. Robin! He’d foolishly hoped that no one had taken any notice of the lad. When the kid first started following him, Jamie gave him a tongue lashing that should have had him running back home. Yet, the lad wouldn’t leave his side and, if he were honest, Jamie would admit that Robin’s assistance had been invaluable to him recently.

 

“Last time, I let you out on bail. Those charges are still pending and yet, here you are again! You are becoming a menace.” His Honor was giving him that face Jamie had seen him wear before lowering the boom on a defendant. He’d been spared that look so far, but it was clear his luck had run out.

 

“No...” Jamie took in a deep breath and squeezed out, “j-jail.” His eyes pleaded with Judge Gowan.

 

“Luckily for you, I happened to have dinner last night with Reverend Wakefield. His son helped The Ridge get a grant for a new program. It just so happens you’d fit in perfectly there. If you agree, you will be escorted to The Ridge directly from here.”  

 

Jamie had no idea what The Ridge was, but it wasn’t jail and it wasn’t home. Jamie thought of Robin. He had to make sure the trail ended with him. If he went back home, the lad would soon arrive on his doorstep and it was only a matter of time before someone discovered their connection. Robin meant well, but he had no gift for stealth. Going to The Ridge was clearly his best option.

 

“Th...thank y..y..you,” Jamie said in relief giving the Judge a half smile.

 

“I’m not granting you a favor!” Ned snapped. “You will have no access to emergency scanners, no following police cars, no hanging out with firefighters, no more Batman chat groups online. If you attend therapy and the doctor says you are doing well, I will grant you a continuance. If not, I will throw your ass in jail immediately. Understood?”

 

This time, Jamie didn’t bother trying to get the words out, but gave the judge a firm nod of agreement.   

 

As he was led out of the courtroom in a daze, before he realized it, he was too far away to try search for his Sassenach in the crowd.

 

He had rounded the corner to be processed out when he heard the bailiff call the next case.

 

“State v. Beauchamp, assault with a drill.”

 

He was certainly more tired than he thought, for he must be hearing things.

 

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, I was saving his life by trephining his skull!” said the voice in a familiar English accent.

 

No, it couldn’t be her.

 

“The EMT said she was cursing a blue streak while cutting the victim’s hair.”

 

“That man can mind his own bloody business!”

 

“Officer Paul’s report, page 2—”

 

“And so can Sargeant Paul!”

 


End file.
